“Come to think of it, what exactly are stars?”

“Stars are stars. What else would they be?”

Stars. What were stars, exactly?

Now that he had obtained two of them, Najin was pondering that question. He did not mean their symbolic significance. He already knew what stars symbolized.

‘Proof of a great feat.’

A star was proof that someone had overcome a seemingly impossible trial and accomplished a feat great enough to reach the heavens. These were also Najin’s reward for a challenge in which he had risked his life. He looked at the two stars sparkling above his outstretched palm. With concentration, he could summon their light like this.

They were beautiful. They were the stars he had yearned for so desperately.

But how should he put it? Najin tilted his head as he gazed at them.

“How am I supposed to use these?”

He could not figure out how to put them to use at all. In the heroic tales, King Arthur had apparently split the earth and even the sky with his stars. As Najin entertained that thought, Merlin spoke in disbelief.

“If just two stars were enough to split the sky and the earth, Arthur and I would have chopped off the Dragon of the Abyss’s head and the Witch of the Abyss’s head ages ago, wouldn’t we?”

“I was only giving an example. Even if I can’t do that much, aren’t stars supposed to let you do things like magic? They do all sorts of things in the heroic tales.”

“The things you’re imagining require at least four or five stars. Their power only grows once the stars connect to form a constellation.”

Merlin waved a finger through the air. Blue lines appeared in its wake.

“Besides, I can’t explain how to use your stars. That’s different for every Constellation. I told you, didn’t I? Your stars are your life, the very path you’ve walked.”

“You did.”

“It’s just like how I can’t tell you how to use your mental image. Ultimately, you have to discover it yourself. It won’t be difficult. You’ll come to understand naturally.”

The blue lines traced Merlin’s constellation.

Why was she suddenly showing him her own constellation? Having spent a fair amount of time with her, Najin could now understand the way she thought to some extent.

She was trying to slip in a little boasting.

He was right. Merlin waved her constellation about where Najin could get a good look at it as she spoke. She never missed an opportunity to show off.

“Every star represents a great feat. In other words, since I’ve earned eleven stars, I’ve accomplished eleven great feats.”

Merlin emphasized the word “eleven.” Najin replied, “Wow, really? That’s impressive,” and nodded obligingly. Only after he had listened to several minutes of her boasting did the conversation finally turn constructive.

“Of course, stars aren’t necessarily a measure of strength. Having more doesn’t guarantee victory. They’re simply a means of proving who you are.”

“A means?”

“Yes. The traces of your life. The path you’ve walked. They’re both a means of proving your great feats and the evidence of them.”

Merlin pointed out the window.

Dawn had yet to break, and countless stars embroidered the dark sky outside. Once, that night sky had felt impossibly distant. Not anymore.

His own stars were up there.

Even among all those stars, Najin could pick out his own. Two stars whose light was still faint, yet unmistakable. The stars he himself had hung in the heavens.

“You’ve inscribed your existence in stars and nailed it to the sky. Until those stars fall, you can look up from anywhere and find yourself.”

Merlin smiled.

“There’s an enormous difference between having even one star and having none. You’ve reached the starting point.”

The starting point. He did not need to ask what it was the beginning of.

“You’ve climbed the first step toward the heavens.”

Of course, that was not all.

Merlin narrowed her eyes as she studied Najin. He did not seem to have noticed yet, but his body was changing, as was usually the case with humans who earned stars.

She did not bother telling him. It was not something another person’s explanation could make him understand. He had to learn it through his own body.

“Anyway, congratulations.”

Then Merlin added,

“Dawnstar.”

The star that heralded the end of night.

Hearing his epithet spoken by someone else, Najin found himself smiling. Dawnstar. It had a rather nice ring to it.

“Now that I’ve earned the right, all that’s left is to prove myself.”

And he would do so not here, but in a distant land beyond the continent.

On the Battlefield of Stars.

2.

Najin began preparing in earnest to leave for the Outer Lands. Unlike his arrival in Cambria, when he had needed only to show up, a journey to the Outer Lands required some preparation.

Above all, the Najin of then was different from the Najin of now.

When he first set foot in Cambria, he had been a greenhorn whose very existence, let alone his name, was unknown. No one had taken any interest in him. But now? Countless imperial citizens were watching him. Even beyond the Empire, people were taking notice of his existence.

The youngest Sword Seeker.

The boy who had obtained two stars.

Was fame a tax of its own? Having made his name across the continent, Najin naturally attracted all manner of scrutiny. People took a keen interest in what he would do next. It was exactly what the emperor had feared.

[“In my eyes, you are a flame.”]

[“A flame that may burn down the Empire.”]

Whichever faction he joined, he would make it far too powerful. If he fell into rebel hands, he would become a flame capable of burning down the Empire. To countless groups, Najin was both desirable and dangerous.

An invaluable card to hold in one’s own hand.

But in an opponent’s hand, a card that might spell one’s death.

If they could not have him, they at least had to keep him out of their opponents’ hands. With so many groups watching his every move... Najin made an announcement.

“I intend to leave for the Outer Lands soon.”

He had no intention of joining any group.

He would leave the continent and head to the Outer Lands.

His declaration caused a great stir. What sort of place were the Outer Lands? Countless heroes had gone there to become Constellations, and it had become the grave of countless heroes as well.

An arduous, harsh, barren place.

A place full of trials that brought one to the brink of death.

It was hardly a destination for a rising talent whose fame spanned the continent. Why would someone who could enjoy wealth and status with any faction choose the Outer Lands? He was not being forced to go. Why would a boy of only eighteen deliberately choose that path?

Najin gave a brief answer to those questions.

Glory without hardship and trials had no value.

He was quoting a hero of old.

As a famous maxim, it had passed through countless lips, but few had put it into practice. Words were easy. Action was difficult.

‘It’s difficult, but...’

“That’s what makes it worthwhile.”

Najin had no intention of becoming a braggart with nothing but fine words. Immediately after his announcement, he began the procedures necessary to leave for the Outer Lands.

Some called him stupid, others foolish. But even they could not deny that his actions resembled those of the heroes of old.

Turning his back on wealth and status to pursue glory.

They might call it foolish, but they could not call it wrong or wicked. If anything, the decision deserved praise. The imperial family and Atanga’s knightly order were the first to respond.

“I offer unstinting praise to one who turns his back on the comfort before him and plunges into raging waves. I respect every choice you make.”

The emperor praised Najin’s choice.

“To plunge into trials is the choice of one who knows pride. To turn away from wealth and status and pursue glory is the choice of one who knows honor. You, who know both honor and pride, are a true model for knights.”

Atanga’s response suggested they were itching to make Najin a knight on the spot. But they, too, knew of the position promised to him, and restrained themselves.

The position the emperor had promised Najin in the past.

The emperor had declared that, on the day Najin fulfilled the ambition he had voiced before the three Sword Masters, he would personally grant him the title of free knight.

A free knight.

Atanga knew the value of that title.

In the distant past, it had been bestowed on the knights of the Round Table who followed King Arthur. Unlike the word “knight,” which had grown ever lighter with time, that title had retained its weight even after a thousand years.

That was the stature of the position he had been promised.

All that remained was for Najin to prove himself.

Atanga’s knightly order eagerly anticipated the day that would eventually come, hoping it would arrive soon. They might witness the birth of the first free knight in hundreds of years.

And as soon as the imperial family and Atanga’s knightly order made their positions known, voices everywhere began proclaiming how splendid Najin’s choice was, as though they had been waiting for the moment. They were not sincere. They were merely jumping on the bandwagon, so Najin paid them no heed.

He let them go in one ear and out the other as he prepared for the Outer Lands. But there was one voice he could not simply ignore.

“N-Najin.”

Someone hastily flung open his bedroom door and rushed inside. It was Dieta, the girl with the lovely brown hair.

A few days earlier, she had launched her confession offensive at him. For days afterward, whenever he visited, she had lowered her head and avoided him. And now she had come to him herself? Had she finally escaped her embarrassment?

“A letter arrived. For you. I, um, would normally handle these myself, but this... I can’t handle this one.”

Judging by how she still could not meet his eyes, she had not. Something serious enough to overcome her embarrassment had simply happened. She handed him a letter.

‘Thorn vines?’

The letter bore an emblem of blood-red thorn vines, the symbol of the Order of Starblood. But that was not all. A sword was depicted crossing the vines.

A sword entwined in blood-red thorn vines.

Only one person was permitted to use that emblem.

The one closest to the Order of Starblood’s patron deity, the Martyr of the Thorn Vines. The Martyr’s champion. The Order of Starblood’s executioner... A woman known by many names.

The murderous fiend, Yuel Razian.

The letter had come from her.

3.

Yuel Razian cleaned her sword.

Running her fingers along the blade to wipe away the blood clinging thickly to it, she released a long breath. Her breath was hot. Her blood-colored eyes gleamed red.

... Ordinarily, blood on a Sword Master’s blade was an uncommon sight.

What was a Sword Master? A transcendent being who released sword aura as easily as breathing and could, if they wished, cut down an enemy tens or hundreds of meters away. Nothing could cling to a blade enveloped in sword aura. Even if something did, the aura’s heat would evaporate it in an instant.

Thus, a Sword Master’s sword almost never became bloodied. The statement that “a Sword Master’s blade was stained with blood” was merely a figurative way of saying they had killed someone. It did not mean there was actual blood on their sword.

But when that Sword Master was Yuel, the statement was no figure of speech. Yuel Razian’s blade was always stained with blood. The reason was simple.

Yuel deliberately refrained from releasing sword aura.

Though sword aura would let her kill her opponents more easily and simply, she did not use it. Once, when knights asked her why, she had answered:

[“Where would the pleasure of cutting be in that? You wield swords yourselves. Surely you understand. The blade slicing through flesh, severing bone, tearing through entrails before emerging from the body. The trembling of the blade. The vibrations that travel through the hilt. Only in that moment do I truly feel pleasure.”]

It took away the pleasure of cutting. That was her sole reason.

So few people could withstand her sword aura that Yuel often restricted her own strength. If a piece of candy was going to melt away anyway, she intended to roll it on her tongue for as long as possible.

Was that not an insult to her opponent?

The knights wanted to ask, but could not. Those Yuel’s sword cut down were criminals, heretics, and wicked things associated with demons. Since ancient times, withholding mercy from evil had been considered the proper course.

Of course, Yuel did not see it that way.

Her notions of good and evil were hazy.

She did not particularly consider dark mages or heretics criminals guilty of great sins. She did not kill them because she regarded them as evil. She simply killed them because doing so had no repercussions.

“Haa...”

Yuel exhaled a hot breath.

Every breath she drew was saturated with the scent of blood. Smiling ecstatically, she plunged her sword deep into a heap of corpses. With it secured there, she took a letter from inside her clothes.

It contained news of a certain boy.

Information she had ordered her adjutant to gather.

As Yuel read through the account of the boy’s exploits, her eyes curved into narrow crescents. A smile settled on her lips. Even upon rereading it, the letter’s contents remained unchanged.

“Two stars at once, and at eighteen? Remarkable. Astonishing, wouldn’t you agree?”

Yuel was not talking to herself. Beside her lay a dark mage whose legs had been cut off. His teeth chattered as he tried to escape, dragging himself over the ground with his hands in place of his missing legs.

“Isn’t it remarkable? A remarkable achievement. My judgment was right after all. What an interesting boy.”

Yuel murmured without looking at the fleeing dark mage. He took her murmuring for a lunatic’s monologue. He assumed she was not actually expecting an answer.

“I asked whether you agreed.”

Yuel thought otherwise.

“I am asking you a question.”

“Hah, haaah...!”

The dark mage moved his hands with all his strength. His nails broke against the rough stone floor and his fingertips split and bled, but he kept crawling frantically.

“I asked you, didn’t I? Whether it was remarkable. I don’t like repeating myself.”

Yuel crooked a finger toward him.

At that instant, the dark mage’s fingers began to crumble from the tips. His broken nails disintegrated, his skin scattered, and his bones ground away. As though she were dismantling her prey.

“Aaaaaaaargh!”

The dark mage screamed at the agony of being dismantled alive. Indifferent to his suffering, Yuel asked once more.

“Isn’t it remarkable?”

“R-remarkable. Magnificent. Truly, a feat that will never be repeated, an unparalleled...”

The dark mage wrung out every word he knew to praise a boy whose face he had never seen. He continued until he died of blood loss. As his increasingly faint breathing finally ceased, Yuel spoke.

“Yes, indeed it is.”

Yuel nodded in satisfaction.

“Then I shall have to see for myself.”